


Hide Your Lies

by planiforidjit



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ? - Freeform, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Stiles, Cheating, Emotions, Hand Jobs, I didn't tag underage, M/M, Rimming, SO, Switching, Top!Derek, Top!Stiles, Underage - Freeform, all the sex, because Stiles is seventeen, bottom!Derek, but like it's kind of underage, on Malia and Braeden, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 21:29:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5180441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planiforidjit/pseuds/planiforidjit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Stiles have been secretly together this whole time!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hide Your Lies

**Author's Note:**

> So this was inspired by watching the whole series again with Aimee and getting to that part in the second season when Lydia comes to Stiles room and I just really wished it was Derek and what was supposed to be about 500 words of emotions and kisses kind of got out of hand. There's a few things changed, obviously like some settings because it made more sense, but it's basically canon compliant. 
> 
> Title taken from "The Hills" by The Weekend because almost every Weekend song makes me think of sad Sterek fics.

Stiles opens his bedroom door and Derek is standing there. 

"Your dad let me in," he says, his eyes focusing on the bruise on Stiles' cheek. 

Stiles puts his arm on the door. "Really?" 

"Well...no. I climbed in trough the hallway window." 

Stiles snorts. "Yeah." 

"Can I come in?" 

"Why?" 

Derek growls a little. "Stiles." 

"What, dude? What do you want? What do you want me to do?" 

"I just—please, Stiles. Can I come in?" 

"Please?" Stiles raises an eyebrow and it hurts his face. "Are you serious?" 

"Iwanttoapologize," Derek mumbles. 

"What? Can you speak up?" 

"I want to—I'm sorry. For all this stuff. For what happened to you and everything else and I just—I want to apologize." 

"Those are literally the most words I've ever heard you ever say in one sentence." 

"I talk." 

"Not to me." 

"That time. Remember. On the floor. With Matt." 

"Yeah. But we were paralyzed. You—." 

"Stiles. Please!" Stiles flinches and Derek's eyes go wide. "No. Fuck. No. I'm sorry. Again." 

"Your voice is stupid." 

"What?" 

"Like you look like you're all broody and growly and you are, but you have a nerd voice." 

"Your voice is stupid." 

"You don't even have a good pun or one liner or something to shoot back at me, Mr. I'm-the-alpha-now Hale? Just 'Your voice is stupid?' Idiot." 

Derek nods, looks down at the ground. "Yeah. I am." 

Stiles is so fucking angry right now. He was feeling shitty with his dad and everything. But fucking Derek showing up and apologizing like that's something he does. Like he doesn't just show up when it's most convenient trailed by Peter and looking like a lost puppy. 

"This is your fault," Stiles says, pointing at his face. "This is you and Scott. This is Gerard fucking Argent trying to get at you two idiots through me! You know that right." 

He grabs the front of Derek's shirt with more strength than he thought possible and yanks him inside. It's a testament to how shitty Derek feels that he doesn't fight back. And that makes Stiles even angrier. He slams the door and shoves Derek against it. 

"Stiles." Derek sounds broken. 

"Fight back," Stiles demands. "Come on, Derek. Do what you always do. Throw me around for my own good. That's what everyone else does. Do you know where you would be without me, Derek? You'd be dead. You'd be dead like three fucking times!" 

"I know. I've never—I've never said thank you." 

"God. I hate you." Stiles wants to hit him but he knows it would be more painful than cathartic. So he just slams his arm against Derek's ridiculously solid chest. "He did this to me and Erica and Boyd for you. We could've died. They could still die." And Stiles doesn't know when he started crying, but his vision is blurring and he feels tears on his cheeks. "And you know I'm just going to turn around and try to save your wolfy ass again because that's what I do. That's what I always do." 

"I know, Stiles," Derek says. He puts a hand on Stiles' face and Stiles leans into it before he can stop himself. "And I—I wish I could've saved you tonight. I wish I could've gone after you, could've protected you." Stiles feels some of the pain leaving him and Derek's veins turn black. Derek's hand drops and Stiles wishes it hadn't. "I'm sorry. I should've been there and I wasn't. And I should've said thank you for everything." 

"Why aren't you fighting me?" Stiles asks, searching Derek's face. He can look right into Derek's eyes like this. And Derek looks away. 

"You got hurt." 

"I always get hurt." 

"Yeah, but I—it was different this time. I mean, maybe it wasn't. I'm not good at—I felt it. And I know I'm not there or good at anything, but the least I can do is protect you." 

"You can't." 

"I can try." 

Stiles searches Derek's face. His stupid, golden eyes. His frowny mouth. His stubble that's slowly but surely getting darker. His dark, somehow sad on their own eyebrows. 

Stiles reaches up and smooths his thumb over one of Derek's eyebrows, which is probably weird. Definitely weird because of the way Derek flinches a little. 

"God, your stupid face," Stiles says. 

And because he's going insane—really this whole situation is insane—he leans forward and kisses Derek, who just lets him, but doesn't really kiss back. So Stiles back onto his heels. 

"You should go, Derek." 

"Wait," Derek says, his hand balled into a fist at his side. He gets that dumb frowny face again. "Just—." 

He puts his hand on the back of Stiles' neck and pulls him forward into another kiss. Stiles tries to focus on the feeling of Derek's lips, but is somehow distracted by the way his thumb moves slowly over the back of his head. And then Derek's tongue is at the seam of his lips like a question and Stiles opens up for him with a sigh. God, Derek sighs too and he sounds like he's finally letting himself relax and Stiles is the one helping him. Its slow. Way slower than Stiles ever imagined, since he started letting himself imagine. It was around the same time he dropped onto Derek's chest and thanked all the deities he could think of that he was paralyzed and couldn't get a boner. 

Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's neck and pulls him closer. Derek's free arm fits around his middle and they're chest to chest. It feels like something more. Maybe because it's not stopping. But it feels like it means something. It's not Stiles' first kiss, but it feels like the one that matters. Derek's stupidly sweet kisses, the softness of his beard against Stiles' cheeks, it's all ruined Stiles for anyone else. He knows this now. Maybe he'll always have a thing for Lydia, but nothing will be like this. 

"Stiles?" His dad's voice floats up the stairs and Derek stops, but he doesn't move away. Stiles moves a hand through Derek's hair, presses their foreheads together, their noses. "Are you okay up there?" 

His dad's voice is followed by the sound of his feet coming up the stairs. And Derek is out from between Stiles and the door and heading towards the window. He throws it open and looks back at Stiles, his face drawn, like he's trying as hard as he can to not express anything. 

"You're just going to go?" Stiles asks, his voice low. So low that his dad won't hear him, but he knows that Derek will. 

Derek nods once. And then he's gone and Stiles' dad is knocking on his door. 

Stiles shuts whatever it is that's tugging at his chest down quickly. He pulls the door open. 

"You okay, son?" 

"Yeah." Stiles doesn't sniffle. 

"I thought I heard voices." 

"I was just—I had to talk to Scott." 

"Everything okay with you two?" 

Stiles nods. "Yeah. It's fine. We'll be fine. Always are." 

\---

Derek doesn't really look at Stiles later except when Stiles tries to run to help Lydia and Scott holds him back. And Stiles doesn't even know how he feels about that because like Lydia is Lydia. He loves her, but all he can think about is Derek and he feels like an idiot later when he gets into the shower, sore and depressed and rubs one out thinking about the way Derek's chest felt. And the way his fingers curled around the back of his neck. 

\---

He doesn't see Derek or talk to Derek until the whole tattoo thing. And Derek puts his hand on Stiles' chest to hold him there and it hurts more than it should. But he stays for Scott. When Scott passes out, Derek looks at him and says, "You grew your hair out." Stiles notices the way Derek's eyes appreciate his shoulders the way everyone has been for the past three months. 

"Yeah, well, you would've noticed if you'd been around—." 

"I'm sorry." 

"Yeah, well, I'm not gonna kiss you this time, buddy." 

Derek huffs a laugh and says, "We should talk." 

"I don't know. Why?" 

Derek does that thing where he flicks his pretty eyes from Stiles' lips to his nose to his eyes. "Because I—I shouldn't have left things like I did." 

"We all know you don't handle things the way you should." 

"Yeah." 

Stiles scratches the back of his neck. "I didn't mean—." 

"No. I get it. It's not—I'm trying harder." 

Stiles nods at passed out Scott. "I'm noticing." 

"I didn't tell him the tattoo is stupid." 

"God. It's so stupid." 

Derek smiles and it's a little uneasy and Stiles can't even control it when he leans in and kisses him. It's not like he wants to. Okay he wants to. But it wasn't the plan. It's just that when Derek smiles all Stiles has ever wanted to do is kiss him. And they're in his burned out shell of a house so like there's no way he'll bail on him. Actually he might bail, but Derek is just kind of the worst sometimes. 

Derek's lips are soft and his hand reaches out to the back of Stiles' neck like it did before. It's like—it's familiar and comfortable and Derek sighs a little before Stiles breaks away. 

"Thought you weren't going to kiss me this time," Derek says. 

"Yeah, well, I'm apparently attracted to patheticness." 

Derek frowns. 

"I didn't mean it that way, dude. Don't go jumping out any windows." 

Derek's eyes flick from his lips back up again. "I won't." 

"Look." Stiles rubs the back of his neck where Derek's hand had rested. He definitely doesn't think about that. Doesn't close his eyes and smile at it. "I don't dislike you as much as you dislike me. So, like, if you wanted to. You could do that again some time." 

"I don't dislike you," Derek says. 

"You don't like me." 

"You frustrate me." 

"Awesome." 

"But I wouldn't—I wouldn't come onto you if I didn't like you. I wouldn't do that." 

"Too many morals." 

"I've been used. I wouldn't do that to you." 

Stiles nods. He's about to say something else. Or climb into Derek's lap and kiss him again. But Scott stirs and Stiles takes a step back from Derek. 

\---

And then Erica is dead and Cora is alive and Stiles comes home after a stupidly brutal lacrosse practice feeling like shit and Derek is sitting in his desk chair, flipping through a back issue of GQ that has Henry Cavill on the cover in a white tank and a scruffy face because Stiles apparently has a type. 

"What are you doing here?" 

"I needed a break. Being home is...stressful." 

Stiles snorts. "Yeah. How's living with Cora and Peter?" 

"Less of the joyful family reunion you thought it would be." 

"I never thought that. I'm not the optimist you are." 

Derek smirks. "I don't think anyone has ever called me an optimist." 

"Yeah, but you are," Stiles says, feeling a little mean, stalking over to where Derek's sitting. "For someone who's been crushed so many times, you have a pretty strong track record of trying to make it better." 

"Obviously I'm not good at it. Erica is dead." 

Stiles nods. It still stings. It's been weeks and it hurts. 

"That's not your fault," Stiles says. "It's the alpha pack." 

Derek nods. "Yeah. She was—." He cuts himself off and looks down. Stiles puts his hands on the arms of the chair. 

"You did everything you could," Stiles says. "And you'll keep going like you always do. And we'll help you like we always do." 

Derek swallows. He leans forward and kisses Stiles. His fingers threading into his long hair. Stiles is at a weird angle, leaning over him, but it doesn't matter. It's almost better when Derek's mouth opens under his. He grabs Stiles' shirt and pulls him on his lap and Stiles goes, straddling him. 

Derek kisses Stiles like he's taking something that Stiles is only willing to give like this. Something he'd never ask for. Something he's worried he's never going to get again. And it breaks Stiles' heart. Derek could always have it. Whatever it is that he wants. Stiles would give it to him. 

Derek tugs on Stiles' hair. "I like this." 

"My hair?" 

"Yeah," he says. "The second I saw it I wanted to know what it would be like to pull on it." 

Stiles leans forward, presses his lips to Derek’s neck. “Fuck. Shit, man.” 

“Do you want me to pull on it?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles breathes because he didn’t know he was into that, but he totally is. 

Derek doesn’t really pull, just tugs lightly until Stiles’ head falls back and Derek bites down his exposed throat. Stiles grinds his hips down and Derek is definitely hard under his jeans and Stiles is too. Holy fuck. 

“Can I touch you?” Derek asks. 

And it’s a little funny that he’s tugging on Stiles’ hair, biting down his throat and asking permission for all of it. Hesitating to make sure Stiles definitely wants it. Like Stiles would ever not want it. Derek is a fucking god among wolves. Basically all the werewolves are hot, it’s like a prerequisite to being bitten or like maybe a side effect. Stiles should probably rethink his whole not wanting to be a werewolf thing if it means his abs will be as awesome as Derek's. 

“Dude, yes,” Stiles says. 

He wants to help Derek get his pants open, but he can’t stop touching him. Can’t stop running his hands over his shoulders and neck and face and hair. God. Derek is so solid and real under him. He could maybe convince himself that the other kisses were just crazy stress dreams. Only so vivid because stress and Derek’s whole hot self just being there. 

But it’s not a dream and Derek is tugging open his pants and pushing them down and one of Derek’s giant hands is cupping his ass and the other is pulling out his dick and the second Derek touches him, Stiles lets out a shout. 

“This okay?” Derek asks, looking up at Stiles with his big eyes and little open mouth. 

“Holy fuck, yeah, Derek. Jesus.” 

“I just didn’t—.” 

“No. This is good. This is so good.” 

Stiles kisses Derek before he can say anything else. Derek’s hand on his ass winds around him as he slowly explores the length of his dick. 

"Can I?" Stiles asks against Derek’s lips, his fingers find the front of Derek's jeans. 

Derek rolls his hips. "Yeah. Fuck, yeah." 

Stiles thumbs open the button, pulls down the zipper and—oh holy shit. "You don't wear underwear?" 

"Not usually." Derek seems a little distracted by his dick being out and the open and oh god it's such a nice dick. Stiles was kind of questioning the into dick thing after the first time he kissed Derek, but he is totally into it. It's like something out of the hipster gay porn he looks at on Tumblr. Not ridiculous, but nice. So nice. And uncut and hard and it's hard for Stiles. Derek is hard for Stiles. 

"God, that's so hot," Stiles says, wrapping a hand around it. 

Derek lets out a breathy laugh and nudges Stiles nose with his own until he can kiss him. He bites Stiles' bottom lip. 

"Make me come," Derek says into his mouth and Stiles almost chokes. 

Even though Derek laughs a little Stiles says, "Yeah, well don't leave me hanging, big guy." 

Derek pulls Stiles closer by his ass and lines their cocks up. Stiles gets a hand around both of them and starts moving and he can barely see it feels so good. He can’t even close his mouth. He just pants against Derek’s lips. 

“Oh my god, Derek,” Stiles mumbles, trying to kiss him and failing because all of his brain is concentrated on the whole dick on dick thing that’s happening right now. 

Derek grunts, digs his fingers into Stiles’ hips. He runs a hand up Stiles’ back, under his shirt and it’s ridiculous how much clothing they’re wearing. They should be naked. They should definitely do this naked next time. Derek’s finger twist into Stiles’ hair again and he tugs. 

Stiles comes with a shout. He feels himself spill over his fingers and he hears Derek say something and then Derek is coming too. He kisses Stiles through it, sighing into his mouth. Derek is so quiet. It’s not at all what Stiles expected and somehow the sexiest thing that could have ever happened. 

When Stiles pulls back Derek looks up at him with that vulnerable look he has sometimes when things go particularly wrong—or when Stiles manages to save his life yet again. 

“That was awesome,” Stiles says and Derek nods, a little stunned. 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re so stoic. Even when you’re jizzing all over the place.” 

“I kept it more contained than you did,” Derek says like it’s a competition. 

Stiles looks down at the mess between them. “You want to borrow a shirt before you leave because that thing is gross.” 

“I don’t think your clothes fit me.” 

“I don’t know. I’ve gotten bigger.” 

Stiles notices that Derek eyes his shoulders before saying, “Yeah. You have.” 

\---

The first time they have sex is kind of an accident. Not really an accident. Stiles doesn't just trip and fall dick first into Derek's ass. But he wasn't planning it. Not that he didn't think about it. Especially not after the whole hand job thing that seemed to be happening. And it was happening. A few times actually. 

But after a pack meeting at the loft everyone leaves and Stiles and Derek are alone. Stiles makes some lame excuse about staying to talk to Derek about something about the alpha pack. And Derek walks over and just drops to his knees in front of Stiles. 

"Wanna suck you off," Derek mutters and Stiles makes this noise that's ridiculous. Like not even a noise people make ever. 

"Holy shit," Stiles says. 

"You okay with that?" Derek asks, but he's smiling like he already knows. He has to know. Stiles has like biweekly fantasies about this. Possibly bi-daily. Just a lot of bi-everything happening up in here. 

"Yes. Oh my god." 

Derek noses along the fly of his skinny jeans and Stiles reaches out to hold on to something and his hand comes in contact with the back of the couch. 

"Put your hands in my hair," Derek says and Stiles complies. 

Derek moans at that and Jesus Christ it's so sexy. The knowledge that Derek mother fucking Hale likes having his hair tugged so much it makes him moan feels like the most important thing Stiles has ever known. 

Derek works open Stiles' jeans and he's so hard already it's kind of embarrassing. Derek doesn't seem to care, Derek just sticks his whole face into the front of Stiles' crotch and breathes in deep. 

"You smell so good," Derek says. He works down Stiles' jeans and his underwear and leans back a little to get a good look. He takes a lick over the head of Stiles' cock. 

"Derek," Stiles breathes, he cards his fingers through his hair. "You don't—are you sure?" 

"Yeah," Derek says. "I've been thinking about it." 

And then he's kissing up the side, licking, sucking his cock into his mouth and Derek knows what he's doing. Stiles has no experience on either end of this, but he knows that Derek knows. Derek is moaning and sucking like he loves cock and maybe it's because it's Stiles' cock, but Stiles doesn't think so. Derek just fucking loves it. 

And that makes Stiles want something else. He wants more. He wants to take care of Derek like Derek is taking care of him. 

"Stop, stop, stop," Stiles says gently, tugging a little harder on Derek's hair. 

Derek pulls away, lips all shiny and cheeks flushed and Stiles is trying really hard to not come, but like fuck, look at him. 

"Look at you," Stiles says, feeling himself smile. 

Derek looks a little happy at that. He doesn't really smile because Stiles doesn't even know when he's seen him genuinely smile unless it was post orgasm and even then it only lasts for a few seconds. 

"Why do you want me to stop?" Derek asks. 

Stiles pulls Derek up, kisses the taste of himself off his lips. "Can I fuck you?" 

"Yeah," Derek breathes. "Fuck, yeah." 

"Really?" Stiles grins, pulls Derek in for another kiss. 

"Yeah, Stiles. I want you to fuck me." 

Derek pulls his shirt off and heads towards his bed. It isn't until he's shucking off his jeans that Stiles realizes it's an invitation. He trips over his own pants in his haste to get them off, mostly because he forgets to take off his sneakers. Derek laughs at him from where he's sitting on the bed, completely naked with his cock all hard and there and Stiles is this really weird combination of totally embarrassed and turned on. The blood in his body has no idea where to go and the fact that he definitely bruised his elbow on his way down doesn't help much. 

"You need help?" Derek asks. 

"Fuck you," Stiles says, finally getting out of his pants. He pulls his shirt over his head. "You just stay there." 

Derek laughs again and Stiles is so happy that he can actually make Derek laugh. 

He climbs into the bed over Derek and kisses him. Derek's hand winds into his hair and he grinds their hips together. 

"Do you know what you're doing?" Derek asks between kisses. 

"With the whole fucking you thing? I've watched plenty of porn, Derek." 

"So...no, then." Derek reaches over blindly and grabs lube from his bedside drawer. "I'll just get myself ready." 

"No, no. I want to—I want to take care of you Derek." 

Derek pushes the lube bottle into Stiles' hand. "That's sweet. Don't screw it up." 

Stiles kisses him once. "The only thing I'm going to screw is you, big guy." 

Derek makes this noise like he's embarrassed for Stiles. "I'm going to turn over because that was so bad I can't even look at you." 

And then Derek does turn over and all Stiles has is a perfect view of that glorious ass. He follows it up Derek's back, admiring the way his muscles move. He leans down and kisses the triskelion tattoo between his shoulder blades and Derek shudders. 

"Stiles," he says and he sounds a little unsure. "Don't—." 

"You don't like that?" Stiles asks, running his hand over Derek's ribs. 

"Maybe another time. It's just—not right now. Okay?" 

"Okay." Stiles presses kisses down his spine as he rubs his sides. "Can I eat you out a little?" 

"Yeah." Derek leans forward on his arms and closes his eyes, pushing his ass further towards Stiles. 

Stiles doesn't really know what to do here, but he's seen it happen a lot in porn. And he's read about it. And it's fine. People do it constantly. He just really doesn't know how he's supposed to put his dick in there. It's not like he's huge or anything. But it looks so small. 

He runs his fingers over the pucker of Derek's ass and Derek squirms a little. When he leans in and kisses it, Derek sighs and it's the hottest thing Stiles has ever heard. So he licks and he must do something right because Derek opens up a little like its something magic and he moans and Stiles licks again and again. He spreads Derek's ass with his hand and suddenly he's pushing a finger in along side his tongue, then two fingers, trying to open him up. 

"Stiles," Derek hisses. "Use the lube. Jesus." 

Stiles sits back and scrambles for the little bottle. He pours too much on his hand and over Derek's ass, but this feels kind of like a better safe than sorry type situation. He presses two fingers back inside of Derek and they go so easily. He's in awe of how his ass just kind of eats them. And he's so warm and tight inside. But he stretches as Stiles works him open. He adds a third and Derek groans. 

Stiles presses a kiss to Derek's tailbone. "Do you think you could just come from this? Just my fingers?" 

Derek nods. "But I want you to fuck me. Come on, Stiles." 

"Condom?" Stiles asks. He still has his fingers in Derek's ass because he doesn't think he can take them out. 

"I don't—we don't need it, Stiles." 

"Dude—." 

"I don't get diseases and obviously I can't get pregnant." 

"I don't know, man, I've read shit on the internet." 

"Jesus Christ, Stiles. I don't have any condoms, so fuck me or get out." 

"Okay, okay," Stiles says, taking his fingers out of Derek's ass and spreading probably more lube than necessary over his dick. Better safe than sorry. 

"Stiles," Derek growls. 

"I know. Jesus." Stiles lines himself up with Derek's ass and starts pushing inside. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god." 

Derek presses his head into the blankets and makes a frustrated noise. "I need more, Stiles." 

"Dude, I'm trying so hard not to come right now." 

"Just fuck me." 

"You're not making it any easier." 

Derek rocks backwards, pushing himself down the rest of the way and Stiles lets out a punched breath, but Derek hums like he's just so happy to be full of Stiles. Stiles flails a little, tries to pull himself together, takes deep breaths before he accidentally gets off too soon. Except Derek pulls forwards and then moves back again and there's something insanely sexy about Derek just fucking himself on Stiles. 

"Derek," Stiles gasps, grabbing his hips steadily in his hands. "Jesus—fuck. Derek." 

"I don't care if you come too soon," Derek says, looking back at him. "I want you to come." 

Stiles leans forward and presses a kiss to Derek's shoulder. "But I want it to be good for you. I want you to come too." 

Derek grabs Stiles' hand and bring it around to his hard, leaking cock. "I'm going to come, Stiles. Christ." 

"Oh," Stiles says. 

"So. Fuck. Me." 

Stiles gets his hand back on Derek's hip and pulls out a little and pushes back in and it's awesome. He had no idea. He was such an idiot. All he did was think about sex and he had no idea it would be this good. Jesus. He should have fucked Derek ages ago. 

He can't really say anything coherent, but Derek doesn't seem to mind. And, God, the noises Derek makes are the sexiest thing he's ever heard. They're better than porn. Little breathy gasps and words and Stiles' name. Stiles wants more. He's greedy for it. He moves harder, faster and Derek responds beautifully. 

"Stiles, I'm so close," Derek says. 

Stiles gets his hand back on Derek's cock and moves it quickly, just like he knows Derek likes because he knows that about Derek. He flicks his thumb over the swollen head and Derek just seizes up totally. His whole body goes stiff and his ass clamps down on Stiles like a fucking vice and Stiles would definitely be coming if he wasn't so mesmerized by Derek's back bowing. Derek presses his face into his pillow and opens his mouth and he doesn't shout. He's just quiet, until he relaxes and lets out this long, loud sigh and Stiles snaps back to himself and comes, which is kind of a surprise. 

Stiles is not quiet when he comes. Not like Derek. He makes a weird strangled noise and presses his forehead against Derek's back. He kisses his skin, runs his fingers through the come on Derek's belly, and he stays like that until he starts to shiver. 

"Oh my god," Stiles says, pulling out of Derek and flopping down in the bed. "Holy shit." 

Derek gives him one of those rare post orgasm smiles as he rolls over. "Yeah. Fuck." 

"Oh my god," Stiles says again. "Jesus. I just need a minute. That was awesome. We should do that all the time. Or—like—whenever we can. I bet you don't want everyone to know you let me fuck you." 

Derek doesn't say anything and Stiles takes that as agreement. 

\---

After Boyd dies, Derek stumbles through the window and Stiles is out of bed, ready to fight, but it's just Derek. Derek looking broken and finally worn down. Stiles pulls him close, hugs him tight and holds him up. 

"Please, Stiles." Derek's voice is hushed and cracked and tinged with sobs. "Please. I need to feel you." 

"What, Derek. Tell me what you need. I'll do anything." 

"Fuck me," he gasps against Stiles' lips. "Please—I just—I need to feel something else. Need to smell something else." 

Stiles wants to, but he also doesn't want Derek to regret it later. Doesn't want him to only think of sex with Stiles as something sad. 

So instead Stiles wraps his arms around him, holds Derek's head against his shoulder and lets him sob. They fall into the bed like that with their arms wrapped around each other, their legs tangled. Stiles strokes his fingers through Derek's hair, kisses his forehead. 

"I've got you, big guy," he says. 

Derek's hands tighten in his shirt. "I know." 

Stiles is pretty sure he falls asleep before Derek does, but he barely realized it's happening before he's waking up. Derek's face is still pressed into his neck, but his breathing is soft and even, his hands are relaxed, the sun is coming up. 

Stiles doesn't move his body. He just wraps his arms around Derek tighter and Derek's arm that's flung out over his waist tightens too. 

"I've got you," Derek mumbles into Stiles' neck. He presses a kiss to Stiles' skin. 

"I know," Stiles says. 

\---

Stiles wakes up and it’s morning. He reaches over for Derek, but he’s gone. The space next to him is empty, warm from the sunlight and not from Derek’s body. 

He rolls into the empty spot, spreads out his arms and legs, and cuddles into the pillow. Whatever. His bed is too small to share it with an alpha werewolf anyway. 

\---

Derek crawls in through his window again the next night. Stiles sits up in bed, but he doesn't move or say anything. Derek doesn't either. He just shucks off his leather jacket and pulls his henley over his head. He toes off his shoes and pads over to the bed barefoot. 

"You don't wear socks," Stiles asks, reaching up and pulling Derek down into a kiss. 

"My claws tear through them," Derek says against his lips. Stiles gets this image of Derek ruining pairs of socks and having to buy them and it's so adorable that he has to stop thinking about it or it'll probably kill him. 

Stiles laughs and pulls Derek down on top of him. They should talk about the night before but Stiles can see that there's a stray long brown hair on his shoulder, shining in the light from outside and he just wants to fuck him. He wants to erase any part of Jennifer that might've been there. And Stiles gets this kind of joy that Derek came to him after, that Jennifer wasn't good enough. 

He bites at Derek's lips and Derek's hands rake under his shirt and up his sides. Stiles thinks he can feel the hint of a claw on his skin and it makes him shudder. But when he rocks up against Derek, it's blunt nails that bite into his skin. 

Derek helps him pull his t-shirt off and kisses over his pale chest. His teeth nip at his skin, his tongue soothes every bite. 

"You can mark me up," Stiles says. "No one ever sees me without a shirt anyway." 

Derek bites a little harder and Stiles arcs up into it. And then Derek is dragging his pajama bottoms down and nuzzling the bottom of his cock. 

"Can I ride you?" Derek asks like he always does and Stiles feel like kind of a dick because he rarely asks. He just kind of assumes. If they're anywhere and making out and they're hard then sex is probably going to happen. 

Stiles runs his hands into Derek's hair. "You don't have to ask." 

"I do," Derek says. 

Stiles pulls him up to kiss him again and helps push his jeans down. Derek kicks them onto the floor and he kneels with his knees on either side of Stiles' torso. Stiles leans forward and take the tip of Derek's cock into his mouth. Derek's whole body jerks and he lifts up and arm behind his head to tug on his own hair. He looks like a model. Like he's posing for Stiles and Stiles just sucks him in deeper. He hasn't done this a lot. Derek is kind of weird about letting Stiles actually blow him. He's all enthusiastic to suck down Stiles' dick, but when Stiles does it sometimes he just shuts down. The first time it happened he apologized and told Stiles that he could try again another time. 

Luckily, Derek seems to be really into it this time. Stiles tugs him toward by his thighs and then runs his hand over Derek's ass. Derek's ass is probably the best thing Stiles has ever touched or seen or done anything to. It's probably the best ass to have ever existed. It's great and round and kind of hairy and Stiles is so into it. He wishes Derek's chest were harrier, but he is pretty content with the hairy thighs and ass. There's something kind of awesome about fucking someone so manly. 

Stiles dips his fingers between Derek's ass cheeks and he almost chokes on Derek's cock. He pulls back and looks up at Derek with wide eyes. 

"You're already wet," he says. 

Derek shrugs. "I prepped myself before I came over here." 

"Holy shit." 

"Is that okay? I didn't want to assume, but I figured it would save time." 

"Yeah it's okay." The image of Derek on his knees in the middle of his bed working himself open is more than okay. And it's overpowering the disappointment Stiles feels at not being able to stretch Derek himself. 

Stiles pushes two fingers inside of Derek anyway and moves them. Derek leans back, his cock leaks a bead of precome and Stiles leans forward to lick it off. He adds a third finger, then a fourth and Derek is leaning forward with his eyes screwed shut. 

"Come on, Stiles," he says into his neck. "Please." 

"So pushy." Stiles pulls his fingers out. 

"I said please," Derek growls. 

"Here," Stiles says. "I want to try something. Move off for a sec." 

Derek moves away even though he looks like he doesn't want to. Stiles sits up against his pillows and motions for Derek to turn around and get back over him. 

"Is this okay?" Stiles asks like Derek always does. 

Derek nods and Stiles pulls Derek back, guides his dick into Derek's ass. Derek sinks back and let's out this long sigh like it feels so good to have Stiles inside him. 

It's not super easy to move, Derek does most of the work, but Stiles really likes this. He presses bites and kisses to Derek's neck and Derek leans his head back against Stiles' shoulder, exposing his neck. And Stiles is pretty sure that has some wolfy trust implications and he pulls Derek back onto him harder. If Derek could bruise, Stiles' fingers would be digging bruises into his hips right now. He jacks Derek's cock with his free hand and Derek grabs the back of his head to pull him in to an awkward kiss. Derek leans forward when he comes, all his muscles tightening and relaxing and Stiles rests his forehead against the triskelion tattoo. 

"You can touch it," Derek says, his voice tight. He still fucks back against Stiles. Stiles kisses the tattoo, grips his hips impossibly tighter and empties himself into Derek. 

He thinks he might have blacked out a little because suddenly they're on the very quiet, heavy breathing side of things. He runs a hand down Derek's arm, pushes the other through the come on Derek's stomach. Derek takes his hand and sucks his own come off of Stiles fingers and really if Stiles wasn't so fucked out he'd probably already be hard again. Stiles presses another kiss to Derek's tattoo. 

"Do you wax your chest?" Stiles asks eventually and it's ridiculous because he's still inside Derek. "Because like the rest of you is so hairy." 

"Do you want me to be harrier?" Derek asks. He pulls away from Stiles and climbs out of the bed. He stretches and Stiles watches the way his muscles move. 

"I'm just curious as to why you're not." 

Derek shrugs. "I guess you'll never know." 

Totally naked he leaves Stiles' bedroom and Stiles is so lucky his dad still won't be home for another few hours because his dad has guns and Derek being naked would definitely get one or both of them shot. Stiles hears the tap in the bathroom running and then Derek comes back all cleaned up. Stiles pulls on his pajama pants again but he's too hot to pull on his shirt. 

"You could stay," Stiles says, watching Derek pull on his jeans. 

"I better not," Derek says. 

And then he's dressed and out the window before Stiles says anything else. 

\---

Stiles doesn't ever come to Derek. Not until after the Nogitsune is gone. When he does he knocks on Derek's door and Derek pulls it open. Stiles kind of falls into him then and Derek holds him as he sobs. Derek carries him to the bed, undresses him slowly, pressing kisses to his thighs and knees and ankles as he pulls of his pants. His lips ghost over the inside of Stiles' wrists and elbows as Derek tugs his shirt over his head. 

They're supposed to be fuck buddies. Or like crying and fucking buddies. They're supposed to be a constant in each other's lives. A constant that doesn't become anything more. Derek sleeping over after Boyd was killed was an anomaly. They don't sleep together. 

But Derek curls around Stiles, brings his head to his chest and runs his fingers through his hair. Stiles breathes in the forest rich scent of him. Even Derek's body odor is sexy. Stiles falls asleep there, thinking that everything would be kind of okay if Derek just loved him back. 

\---

He wakes up in the morning alone, but still in Derek's bed, wrapped in all the blankets. He's a little annoyed he doesn't get to see sleepy early morning Derek, but he does smell coffee so he's okay with missing it. He pulls on one of Derek's sweatshirts before he can think too much about it. It's warm and cozy and smells like him. 

Stiles pass out into the open living area where Derek is standing, leaning against the counter. 

"How do you like your coffee?" Derek asks. 

"Cream and sugar." Stiles wraps his arms around himself. 

Derek snorts. "You would." 

And it's kind of great that Derek isn't tiptoeing around him. Everyone else is treating him like he might break. And he probably proved that he can break. He can break colossally. It doesn't change that it's nice to have someone laughing at him. 

"What?" Stiles asks. "Do you drink your coffee black as some sort of self-punishment." 

"I like how coffee tastes," Derek says. 

"Yeah. So do I. With cream and sugar." 

"You're infuriating." 

"Yeah says the guy who cuddled the shit out of me last night." 

Derek blushes and looks down and Stiles walks over to him slowly. He takes Derek's hands in his. 

Stiles leans in to kiss him and it's obscene how good Derek kisses early in the morning. It's like Stiles is waking him up more than the coffee is. Derek wraps an arm around him and pulls him close. Stiles feels a little like a princess who's being wrapped up in the arms of a handsome prince. A handsome prince that he's definitely going to fuck later, but that doesn't make him any less of a princess. 

He pulls away and Derek rests his forehead against his. "Are you feeling better?" 

Stiles nods. "Yeah. A little. Thanks." 

And maybe they won't be anything more than this. Fuck buddies and occasional cuddle buddies, but it's okay. It's just nice to have someone who gets it and no one really gets Stiles like Derek does. Which is kind of insane. 

\---

When Derek is de-aged, Stiles is totally uncomfortable with it. Doesn't know how to act around this Derek that doesn't know they're secretly fucking. And then this young, less angry, kind of a bigger asshole Derek slams him against the wall and it's just a learned reaction that he gets little bit of a boner. Probably. 

Young Derek sniffs. "You smell like me. You smell turned on? Are you turned on right now? Gross? Are we dating? Oh my god." 

"We're not dating," Stiles says, shoving back against him, but Derek holds him there. 

"Why do you smell like we're dating?" He pushes off Stiles and walks over to his bed. Stiles watches as he sniffs the air. "Dude. I smell me. All over this. Oh my god. Am I gay in the future?" 

Stiles scratches the back of his neck. "More bisexual probably. I don't know. We haven't discussed your preferences." 

"And I'm dating you?" 

"No. I told you. We aren't dating." 

Young Derek sniffs the air again. "We're definitely something." 

"Christ, Derek, we're not—we're just—." 

"Friends with benefits?" Young Derek's eyes go wide. "But I'm like twenty-four right? With you?" 

"It's less—it's less weird than that. We've been through a lot together. I'm not like some naive seventeen year old and you aren't like taking advantage of me. There's a lot of extenuating circumstances." 

"Huh. Well. Good to know that future me isn't doing that to you." 

"It's not really future you. You aren't time traveling." 

"Whatever. Do I like you? Because I definitely don't like you now." 

"It's complicated." 

"All of this is complicated. Why is my life so complicated? It's like not bad for me, you know. I'm—I'm normal and cool and I have a girlfriend who's my age." 

"It's—well you know now. Your family is dead. Things get complicated." 

Derek sits down on the end of the bed. And Stiles is kind of relieved that the same heat he feels from regular Derek isn't there. He knows that this Derek is just the sixteen year old version of himself, but Stiles feels like he's a totally different person. A different person he has to look out for in a totally different way.

"How come they couldn't get out?" Derek asks. "Is anyone still alive?" 

"Cora," Stiles says. "But she's gone. And Peter is still alive but that's also complicated. And Laura survived but—." 

"She still died?" Derek chokes on the words. His voice is so soft. Kind of the same as it always is. But different. Stiles really fully realizes now how Derek got to be who he is today. The broken, mistake making, fight losing, idiot Stiles knows makes a lot more sense. 

"Peter killed her. You killed Peter. He came back to life. We all hate him but also kind of don't." Derek makes a noise and Stiles sits down next to him. He puts his hand on his back. "You're trying to make it better. You're trying really hard." 

"Am I making it better?" 

Stiles shrugs. "I don't know. But that's mostly because it only keeps getting worse." 

"My whole family is dead and I'm hooking up with a guy—a guy—who is seven years younger than me that I don't even like and I suck at everything?" 

Stiles nods. "Sounds about right. But you're trying really hard not to suck. And—I don't know—I appreciate it." 

"Jesus," Derek says. 

"Yup." 

\---

After Derek goes back to his real age it takes him a while to seek out Stiles. And after Stiles sleeping over and their stupid really nice breakfast in the morning it's just been quick fucks, hand jobs in the jeep, once a blowie while staking out a monster. So Stiles doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know what the protocol is for their relationship or if there is any. 

In the end they get stuck together at Deaton's watching over Liam as his body tries to recover from the last insane thing that happened to them. Liam is unconscious and Derek is leaning against the counter. 

Stiles has been trying to watch him in a way that's subtle, but it's hard when he can clearly see the hard lines of Derek's muscles through the thin fabric of his shirt. 

Derek takes a breath. "Thank you, Stiles." 

"For what?" Stiles asks like he wasn't expecting or hoping for it. 

"For trying to look out for me when I wasn't me—or not now me. I'm still…trying to deal with it." 

"Dude, I'm always going to look out for you." 

Derek smiles a little. He walks over to Stiles. "You know that it's not true that I don't like you. You shouldn't have told younger me that." 

"Are you saying you like me?" 

"I'm learning to tolerate you." 

Stiles barks out a laugh and Derek kisses him. 

It's easy to forget where they are. Derek has that affect on Stiles. He gets lost in the feeling of his fingers running into Derek's hair, the knowledge that Derek isn't wearing underwear under those jeans. God. Derek's whole being should be a crime. 

"Ugh. Oh my god. Are you guys making out?" 

Derek whips his head around and Stiles has to pry himself away from Derek to really get a good look at Liam sitting up on the table. 

"What the hell? I was dying!" 

Stiles grabs the front of his shirt. "You tell anyone about this and I'll line your clothes in wolfsbane, you little shit."

"Why the fuck would I tell anyone that I just saw that? You fucking weirdos." 

Stiles looks back at Derek. He has that expressionless look on his face where his eyebrows are totally relaxed and Stiles can't read him at all. 

"Just don't tell anyone," Derek says. "I'll go let Scott know you're up."

Derek leaves and Stiles feels like something went wrong, but he doesn't know what. 

\---

Stiles thinks that when he sees Derek leave in Mexico that it's the last time he's going to see him. It makes sense and it kind of hurts somewhere in his chest, but he's kind of dating Malia and Derek was kind of dating Braeden and it's weird that they sometimes shout at each other and make out a little. They haven't actually had sex in a while. They always make sure to stop whatever is happening before it goes that far. 

So when Stiles hears his window open that night he expect Malia. Doesn't roll over because he's too tired to do anything, worn out from everything really. He likes doing this stuff sometimes. He likes his exciting life where he does research for werewolves and gets possessed by demons. It's kind of fun. You know. When they all survive. But right now he just feels tired of it. He misses when Lacrosse and Lydia and Scott were the only things that mattered. 

"Stiles." 

He turns over fast. Derek is standing by the window in his t-shirt and really sinful jeans. Derek moves across the room quickly and Stiles is up, wrapping his arms around him. 

"I'm not staying," Derek says between kisses. 

"Stay for a little bit," Stiles says, already pulling Derek's shirt off him. Derek lets it go. 

Stiles pushes him back against his desk, pulling off his own t-shirt as they go. Derek's fingers dig into his shoulders. 

"No bruises," Stiles says even though he wants them and Derek lets go. 

"That's fair," Derek says. He pushes Stiles back, pushes him down into the bed and Stiles goes. Let's Derek pull off his pajama pants. He forwent underwear and it was definitely the best decision since Derek just leans in and sucks the head of his dick into his mouth. 

Derek mouths down the side of his dick, interchanging kisses and licks. He pulls off and kisses Stiles, who fists his hands into his hair, holds on like he'll never let him go. 

Stiles immediately goes to Derek's jeans to rid him of them. Derek helps, pushes them over his hips, kicks them off onto the floor. He reaches over to grab the lube from the bedside. 

"Wait," Stiles says. He pushes Derek over onto his back and frames his face. "Just slow down."

"I want you," Derek says, pulling Stiles into a kiss. He bites at his lips. "Come on, Stiles." 

Stiles preps him slowly. He pulls one of Derek's legs over his shoulders and kisses his thighs, the side of his knee. Derek opens up for him like it hasn't been ages since they've done this, like they both just have each other and no one else matters. 

Stiles knows he doesn't have Derek, but Derek has him. He can't say it. Not really. So he shows it by pushing into Derek carefully, kissing Derek through it, biting his neck because it'll heal. He wishes he could leave Derek with something. Some memory of him. 

Stiles pulls Derek's head forward and kisses him because it's too much. His chest hurts and he's going to say something stupid. Tell Derek he loves him or something crazy like that. 

"Stiles." Derek sounds broken. He gasps his name again. 

Stiles reaches between them and strokes Derek's cock just the way he likes. He wonders if Braeden is this good for him. If Braeden knows just the way he likes it. A rational part of him is saying that she probably does. She's pretty nice, if a little scary, and she probably takes care of Derek. But Stiles likes to think that he's the only one who can fuck Derek like this, the only one to make Derek whimper underneath him. 

When Derek comes it's quiet and Stiles follows, biting down in the juncture of Derek's neck and shoulder to muffle his own shouts. 

He pulls out too quickly and Derek looks a little defeated when Stiles flops into the bed beside him. He reaches out to touch his flushed chest and Derek gives him this sad smile like he's trying to make Stiles feel better. 

"God," Stiles says. "Your teeth are so stupid." 

Derek lets out this pained laugh. "My teeth?" 

"Yeah. They're like really cute." And Stiles figures that this is the post orgasm brain mushiness talking because he's never told Derek that he's cute even though he's the absolute cutest. 

"I didn't know you thought any of me was cute." 

"Obviously I'm attracted to you, dude. I just fucked you." 

Derek laughs again. "My teeth aren't cute." 

"Your teeth are so cute. Your dentist must be like in love with you." 

"I don't have a dentist." 

Stiles rolls his eyes. "I'm adding that to my list of reasons to be a werewolf." 

"Don't be a werewolf," Derek says. "Especially not now that I'm leaving." 

"You're leaving?" THough Stiles knew that was what he was planning. 

Derek nods. "You should change your sheets. Malia is going to smell me all over this." 

Stiles closes his eyes. "Fuck." 

Derek shrugs. "It's okay. I mean I'm just lucky the girl I'm dating is human." 

Stiles lets out a cold laugh. "This is ridiculous. Don't go, Derek. Let Braeden go. I'll—I'll break up with Malia. Like I'd be totally into this if you stayed." 

"You're seventeen." 

"I'm almost eighteen." 

"Stiles. I can't. I have to go." 

"Then—I don't know—I'm really going to miss you, sourwolf." 

Derek nods. "I know. I'll really miss you too." 

"Can you stay for a little while now?" 

Derek shakes his head. "I should get going." 

Stiles nods like he understands and part of him does. Derek has been trying to get away for a while and it's never stuck. And now—well nothing is perfect—things are calmer, he has a purpose. He can go and there's not a lot to keep him back. 

But Stiles kind of hoped that he would be enough to keep Derek back. 

Derek gets out of the bed and pulls on his jeans and Stiles sits up, draws the covers up to his neck like he's trying to be modest. 

"Dude, Braeden is definitely going to notice that I came in your ass," he says because he can't really say, "Why am I not enough?" 

Derek shoots him a glare and then heads out of his room to the bathroom. Stiles pulls his knees up to his chest and presses his face against them. He hears Derek come back in the room and shut the door, but doesn't do anything until he feels Derek's weight on the bed. 

He looks up as Derek runs his hand through Stiles' hair and leans forward to kiss his forehead. "I'll text you." 

"No you won't. You don't even text me now." 

Derek shrugs. "Maybe I'll miss being annoyed constantly and I'll have to get my fix." 

"I don't like it when you make jokes. It's not right. It doesn't feel right." Stiles grabs the front of Derek's shirt and he's so disappointed that he's wearing it. He kisses him. "You should leave." 

"That's what I'm doing." He kisses Stiles again and there's something pressing against Stiles' chest. He feels like his heart hurts, like something has taken up residence in there and it's trying to push it's way out. He knows he's going to cry later so it's better if Derek just leaves. 

"Don't be a stranger," Stiles says, pulling away from Derek. 

Derek does this thing where he nods like he deserves this, like he can't ever be happy and Stiles can't ever be happy even though they are, despite all odds, happy together. "Bye, Stiles." 

Stiles doesn't look at him, focusing instead on his fingers. "Bye Derek." 

He doesn't see Derek leave, but he hears the window open and the sound of Derek's feet stepping on the ledge. Derek says something, but Stiles doesn't have wolfy hearing and so he doesn't hear him. 

He waits to lay down in his bed and cry until he know for sure that Derek can't hear him anymore. 

\---

After Stiles kills Donnovan and fights with Scott, after he watches his jeep get towed away, he finally texts Derek for the first time since he left. He doesn't want Derek to know how bad it is. He doesn't want Derek to think he has to come back even though he wants him too so badly. 

Is Braeden fed up with how much you mope yet? 

Derek texts back almost immediately and Stiles does not read into it. Derek was probably just with his phone. 

I don't mope. 

Dude. You mope. And when you don't mope you creep. It's a fact. 

There's a pause and just the little dots to show Derek is typing. Stiles stares at them for a while. 

Braeden is on her way back to Beacon Hills. 

What? Are you? What the fuck? 

No. I'm staying. 

Where are you? 

Are you coming to find me? 

What if I did. Fuck this place. 

I'm not telling you where I am. Finish high school. Then we'll talk. 

Stiles states at his phone. He doesn't know how to respond. 

I know what's going on, Derek says. I know what's happening. 

I didn't want to say anything. Why aren't you coming back? 

There's nothing for me there. Just bad memories. 

Stiles stares at his phone. He wants to strangle Derek. He just wants to hit something. Where the fuck is Theo's dumb face when he needs something to hit. Fuck. 

He whips his phone against the wall and it shatters. 

He jumps out of bed to try to salvage it, but the screen is in pieces, he can see little bits of microchip and chords through it. 

"Fuck," he says to nothing. 

\---

Scott is the one to tell Stiles that Derek is back and it kind of hurts that Derek didn't tell him. But it's been two years. Not that Stiles ever stopped looking for Derek around every corner. Even kept his eyes peeled while he was away at school. 

And now he's just at his loft and the light is on and Stiles is standing outside trying to build up enough courage to go up. 

His phone buzzes. 

It's from Derek: Stiles. I can hear your heart beating from here. Just come up. 

And then Stiles is bounding up the stairs to Derek's loft, throwing open the door and Derek is there in a green henley and Stiles wraps his arms around him before he can stop himself. Derek holds him just as tightly. 

"I hate you," Stiles says even though he has his arms around Derek. "I hate you so much." 

"I'm sorry for leaving," Derek says into Stiles' neck. "I'm sorry for everything." 

"You should be," Stiles says. He can't let Derek go. Not even on a mental level, but on a physical level. It would take werewolf level strength to pull Derek out of his arms. 

"I am."

"Why didn't you tell me first? Why didn't you tell me you were here?" 

"I understand if you don't forgive me," he says. His voice soft as always. 

"Of course I forgive you, you idiot," Stiles says. "But why didn't you tell me?" 

"I didn't know where we stood." 

Stiles leans back out of the hug and kisses Derek so hard it's not even that great a kiss. "That's where we stand." 

"Really?" Derek asks. 

"Yeah. Because—fuck—I missed you. You asshole. God. You're the worst sometimes." 

"I know," Derek says, pressing closed mouth kisses to Stiles' lips. "I know. And I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that I had you here. You're the reason I came back. You have to know that. You're the only reason I'd ever come back here." 

"Do you have any idea how many times I wanted to tell you that." 

"But I didn't know. I couldn't—I didn't think you wanted me." 

"You're so dumb," Stiles says. "I was fucking you, man. I wanted you so bad. I mean—I probably could've said something. But I kind of thought you just wanted me for sex." 

"I told you I wouldn't use you." 

"Yeah, but like we kind of dated other people." 

"I know." 

"So like that was weird. And I just assumed we were channeling all that fighting into great sex and like I was the only one dying inside." 

"You weren't," Derek says, pulling Stiles forward for another kiss. They kiss and kiss and kiss. Fast closed mouth kisses, licks against each other's lips, Derek pushes Stiles against the back of the couch and lifts him up on top of it. Stiles wraps his legs around Derek, pulls him in close. 

"Want me to cook something?" Derek asks between kisses. "We could have a real date?" 

"No," Stiles says. "I want you to fuck me." 

Derek's fingers dig into Stiles' sides. "Stiles." 

"Would you be okay with that? I mean I know I—." 

"Fuck yes, Stiles. Fuck. I'm okay with that." 

"Good," Stiles says, punctuating it with a roll of his hips. "I've been thinking about it." 

"Thinking about?" Derek rests his forehead against his. 

"What it would be like if you fucked me. I've never—it's not like—you screwed me over for everyone else you know?" 

Stiles doesn't really know how to explain to Derek that he's never let anyone fuck him. Not because he isn't okay with having a little something in his ass. Because he is so okay with it. The most okay. But because it feels intimate. He thinks of the way Derek looked up at him and he doesn't want to give that to anyone else. And yeah the other side of sex can be equally intimate but he's done it with at least four people at this point and he kind of just wants that one thing to be for Derek. And when he spent long nights opening himself up on his fingers he never really imagined anyone else doing it. Just Derek's thick fingers against his hole, just Derek's stubble scratching his stomach. And just Derek, stroking Stiles' sides as he slowly fucks into him. 

"You ruined me too," Derek says, pressing his face into Stiles' neck. He takes a deep breath. "I don't think—you're it for me. You always were." 

Stiles grins. "You too, sourwolf." 

Then Derek growls and he picks Stiles up off the couch and carries him over to the bed. He dumps Stiles into the center of it and Stiles barely had time to flail before Derek is pushing him down into the covers. 

Stiles tugs on Derek's shirt. "This. Off." 

Derek grabs the back of it and pulls it over his head and it's such a sexy move that Stiles has to close his eyes and catch his breath. Derek gets back in his space, presses harsh kisses to his lips and tugs Stiles' shirt off and flings it god knows where. He kisses down Stiles' chest, taking care to press his lips against his scars from years of fighting the supernatural. He nips at his peaked nipples and Stiles' hips buck off the bed. 

Licks follow bites and Stiles runs his fingers into Derek's hair. Derek makes his way lower, his hands finding the fly of Stiles' jeans and quickly unzipping them. He pulls his jeans and underwear down and over his feet. Stiles is maybe a little alarmed at how hard he is if only because he's worried he's going to come too soon. 

"Derek," Stiles says as Derek kisses up his legs and bites the insides of his thighs. He runs his hands under Stiles' ass and mouths at the base of his cock. "Derek. Oh god. I don't wanna—what if I—?" 

"Do it," Derek says. 

Stiles pushes his head back into the pillows. "Fuck. Fuckity fuck." 

"Speaking of which hand me the lube." 

Stiles hits Derek in the head with his thigh for that transition but reaches into the bedside table for lube. He tosses Derek the half full bottle. 

"Is this from two years ago?" Stiles ask, pushing himself up on his elbows. 

"Yes," Derek says. "I have not had sex or jerked off since we stopped having sex." 

"Okay. But you didn't live here." 

"And you can definitely only get it in one place." 

"I'm just saying. I don't want you to use it on my ass if it's gone bad." 

"It's new, Stiles." Derek kisses his hip. "Do you mind if I eat you out a little?" 

"Jesus fucking—only if you want me to come like right away." 

Derek shrugs. "I kind of do." 

He lifts Stiles' ass off the bed and hooks one of his legs over his shoulders. He spreads Stiles' ass and strokes one finger over his entrance. 

Stiles hisses. "Shit." 

"I'm so pissed at myself for never doing this before." 

"God you should be," Stiles pants when Derek leans in and blows cool air over his hole. "Jesus fucking Christ you should be. God." 

Derek takes a tentative lick and Stiles let's out a long sigh and after that it's apparently all hands on deck as Derek burrows his face practically inside Stiles. No one had ever eaten him out so enthusiastically in his life. Derek his moaning against him, his hand jerks Stiles' rigid cock. 

"Derek," Stiles gasps. He tugs on Derek's hair. "For real, Derek. I can't—I can't hold it back." 

Derek doesn't stop and Stiles can't really talk that much. His whole body is hot and tight. He can feel it building in the base of his spine, in the way his toes are starting to curl, he feels it blooming in chest. He gasps Derek's name again and comes. He opens his eyes just enough to see Derek pull back and just cover the head of Stiles' cock with his mouth which sets off another wave of pleasure and god it could be a bad thing maybe. An overstimulation thing. But it's not. It's just so good. 

Derek pushes two fingers into his relaxed body and Stiles let's his legs fall open wider. He's still a little hard and he reaches down to stroke himself so he won't go soft. But it sends little ripples of pleasure up his chest to his nipples and he runs a hand across one because he's going to just fall out of his skin. 

"You're so beautiful," Derek says, leaning over and pressing a kiss to Stiles' nipple as his fingers work in and out of his ass. 

"Don't make me feel like a girl," Stiles huff. 

"Then stop being so beautiful," Derek says, kissing him. 

"Gross," Stiles says between kisses. "You're so gross and cute." 

"You love it," Derek says and Stiles stops himself from the blushing cheesy answer. 

Instead he says, "I fucking love you, dude." 

"Stiles, you can't call me dude if we're having sex. I'm laying down rules." 

"Come on." Stiles strokes his fingers through Derek's hair. "Dude. Fuck me." 

Derek adds a third finger and Stiles shivers. "You ready for me?" 

"So ready," Stiles sighs and smiles because he's happy. He's so fucking happy he can feel it in his chest. "Come on, sourwolf." 

"I'm vetoing sourwolf too." 

"Oh no. Sourwolf is my favorite." 

Derek kisses away his grin and spreads Stiles' legs and positions himself between them. Stiles sucks in a breath as the head of Derek's cock teases at his hole. He pulls Derek down for another kiss and helps pull him closer. 

Derek pauses when he feels Stiles tense and Stiles knows that he can smell a little bit of pain. 

"It's okay," Stiles says, running a hand over his face. "Keep going. It'll stop." 

"I don't want to hurt you." 

"You aren't," Stiles says, pulling him down and kissing him. 

"You're lying." 

"It's not–okay, yes. But it's fine." 

Derek's hand splays over Stiles' ribs and Stiles watches as a little bit of black pain move through his veins. 

"That's cheating," Stiles says, but he feels so good and full now. There's still a stretch and burn, but it's pleasant. His body feels so relaxed, like he's just opening up for Derek. 

Derek looks like he's about to say something, but he kisses Stiles instead. He rocks into him and Stiles clutches at the muscles in his shoulders, digs his fingers in. He's hard again and he reaches down to strike himself a little and Derek's hand joins his. 

"You feel so good," Stiles says. He wants Derek to know how much he loves this. He needs Derek to know. "Fuck, Derek. It's so good." 

"Can I bite you?" Derek asks, his breath is heavy, his eyebrows knit together in concentration. 

"Bite me?" Stiles gasps because holy fuck that's hot. 

"Not with werewolf teeth. I just–I want to mark you. Please." 

Stiles shudders. "Yeah. Fuck yeah." 

Derek groans and he bites down into Stiles' shoulder. Stiles comes with a shout. He can barely catch his breath and let himself relax because Derek keeps going. He picks up the pace and Stiles wraps his arms around his shoulders and closing his eyes as each ripple of pleasure shoots through him. 

Stiles kisses the side of Derek's face when he finally shouts and stills inside of Stiles. He rests his head in the crook of Stiles' neck and breathes him in. 

"I love you," Derek says. "Fuck." 

Stiles barks out a laugh. "Is it that alarming?" 

"Yes." 

"I love you too, sourwolf." 

\---

Stiles wakes up and Derek is still asleep and he's so glad because he missed sleepy Derek that one time. He never got to see him all half awake and weird and he's thought about it. When he felt particularly bad about everything he'd try to imagine Derek's face when he lifts his head from the pillow. 

Derek does not disappoint. 

The first cute thing happens almost immediately. He snorts in his sleep and it startles him awake like he's a puppy or something. And his head shoots up and his hair is sticking up on one side and plastered to his head on the other. He frowns with half closed eyes and then flops back down into his blankets. He grabs Stiles and pulls him tight to his chest. 

"Stop laughing at me," Derek growls. His breathing goes even again and he drifts back off to sleep while Stiles giggles.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on Tumblr! www.bifuriousderek.tumblr.com


End file.
